One Chance
by Kaoru2.50
Summary: All he needed was one chance. He could deal with whatever came after.


He ran his fingers lightly down the man's sides, silently counting each rib. He pressed soft kisses across the man's chest, smiling as the man's thin spattering of chest hair tickled his nose. The sound of his breath catching in his throat, small gasps and moans and whispered pleas. Lassiter leaned back, marveling at the sight of Shawn Spencer stretched tantalizingly across the bed beneath him. Spencer's hands lifted to frame his face. "Lassie," he called gently, and Lassiter smiled again as he leaned down, pressing his lips to Shawn's.

He knew Shawn had just been dumped, and had spent the better part of the day hopping from one bar to the next until he'd been so plastered that walking had become a true chore, and that he was even now still so far under the influence that he wouldn't remember this night in the morning.

But he didn't care.

Five years of Spencer's antics, the touching and tempting. Five years pushing the man away, trying not to let on that every time he threw Shawn against the wall and threatened him all he really wanted to do was pull him closer. If this was the only chance he'd have, Lassiter would take it, even if it was low and dishonorable and half a dozen other things that were usually not in him to do.

"Mmmf-ahh!" Shawn's voice rose high on a moan as Lassiter moved his attention down the other man's body, running lips and fingers over skin shades closer to gold than tan. "L-Lassie, please..." Shawn trailed off, his breath hitching as Lassiter kissed and nibbled the smooth skin on the inside of his thighs. Lassiter leaned back slightly, running his hands over every part of Shawn that he could reach, kneeling between the other man's legs. Shawn was hard.

For years, he'd fought the feelings that Shawn inspired in him. When he'd finally accepted it, even not guaranteed success of any sort with the man, Lassiter had done what he always did when he didn't have the answers. Research. So he knew the mechanics of what he should do, but working up the nerve was another matter entirely. "Lassie?" Shawn's voice was husky with lust and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. One chance. Lassiter ran one hand down to Shawn's leg, wrapping long fingers around the base of his cock and slowly leaning down to trace his tongue up the underside. Shawn's gasp hug in his throat and one hand clutched at Lassiter's hair. He took it to mean that he was on the right track and repeated the move before taking Shawn fully in his mouth.

"Lassie!" Shawn cried, both hands pulling at Lassiter's hair now. Lassiter ran his tongue around the tip, then pulled Shawn deeper in. Shawn's legs tightened reflexively and his cries echoed around the small room as Lassiter continued, sucking, licking, stroking, pinning the other man's hips with one arm to keep him from bucking too much. When Shawn arched off the bed and yelled hoarsely as he released into Lassiter's mouth, Carlton couldn't help the small amount of pride that came with the knowledge that he was the one who brought Shawn to this edge. He gulped down the salty sweet flavor of Spencer's cum and licked him clean.

Shawn's hands loosened in his hair, slipping down to frame Lassiter's face and pulled at him until Lassiter slid up Shawn's body laying so that they were flush together, chest to chest. "Lassiter," Shawn whispered against his lips, "Ah, Lassiter." And their lips were together again as Lassiter reached for a small bottle of lotion he'd spotted on the bedside table, and pumped a small portion on his fingers. Then, still twining his tongue with Spencer's, he slid one hand around, pressing lightly against Shawn's entrance. "Mmmm," Shawn moaned into his mouth. "Are you -" his words cut off into a hiss as Lassiter's finger slid in fully. Shawn arched back, then buried his face in the crook of Lassiter's neck as the detective pressed another slicked finger in.

Carlton felt the other man's shoulders tense and his nails dig into his back. "Sorry, Shawn," he murmured, turning to press a kiss into the soft hair near Shawn's ear. Shawn only shook his head, whimpering as Lassiter flexed and scissored his fingers. Words seemed beyond the younger man's capacities at the moment, and his mewls and sighs sent hot breaths running over Lassiter's chest. He slipped in the third finger, finally finding the bunch of nerves that made a high pitched keen slip from Shawn's mouth and his arms tighten around Lassiter's shoulders.

"Now, please," Shawn begged softly, nipping softly on Lassiter's ear. He wasn't sure that Shawn was ready, but the light teasing on his ear and his aching erection insisted that he didn't care. He blindly reached again for the lotion only just managing to prepare himself before Shawn's writhing beneath him broke his control. Shawn's legs tightened around him, and Lassiter poised himself at Shawn's entrance, looking into Shawn's eyes, green at the moment, and clouded with lust and alcohol. "Please, Carlton," he pleaded, pulling Lassiter's head down to press the mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

And Carlton didn't wait any longer, slowly pushing in. He hissed as Shawn's heat enveloped him, tight and firm. "God," he breathed as he paused, fully sheathed.

Shawn gave a husky laugh. "Close, but no cigar, Lassie. Now move," he ordered, punctuating the command with roll of his hips. Lassiter obliged, pulling out and thrusting hard. Shawn's cries spurred him on and his pace increased, he leaned back on his knees, watching as Shawn's hands fell from his shoulders and curled into the sheets near his head. He grabbed Shawn's hips, holding the other man firmly as he continued thrusting. "L-Lassie, I... I..." Shawn's hands flew up to cover his mouth and Lassiter wrapped one hand around the other man's cock, stroking in time to his thrusts.

He let go of Shawn's hip, gripping the top of Shawn's head board. Beneath him, Shawn gasped and moaned, the delicious sounds only barely muffled by the psuedo-psyhic's long fingers. Shawn tensed, arched up, and released a guttural cry, his release sending thin strings of cum painting across his belly. Lassiter followed, his hand dropping to cup Shawn's face and pressing their foreheads together as he finally released into Shawn.

Shawn was sleeping, one hand curled lightly under his cheek, still flushed from alcohol and their recent activity but otherwise fully cleaned by careful hands. Lassiter sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes on and quickly tying off the laces. Then he sat straight and looked down at the younger man, reaching out and running his fingers softly down the side of Shawn's face. A tired smile curled at the corner of his mouth and Lassiter smiled back, even though he knew Shawn couldn't see.

One chance. That was all he wanted. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over Shawn's temple and pulling the thin blanket up to the sleeping man's shoulders. Then he sat back up and ran his hand through his hair. One time, and that was it. Carlton stood, straightening his tie and grabbing his jacket and shoulder holster from the back of Shawn's chair. Tomorrow, Shawn wouldn't be the meek and willing lover he had been tonight. He'd be Spencer, back to normal, sarcastic, teasing, and always ready to steal Lassiter's cases. He sent one last look at Shawn then walked out of the room.

Carlton Lassiter sat in front of his computer the next morning, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he filled in a few reports he'd been thus far tardy in turning in. He nodded at O'Hara as she stopped by his desk long enough to give Lassiter his coffee. He took a few sips as he glanced around the station. Spencer walked in then, still wearing shades that were definitely more suited to outside, and one hand pressed to his head. Lassiter hid a smile behind his hand. The man was clearly hung over, even if he waved off Gus' concerns as they crossed the station to stand at O'Hara's desk, only offering him a cursory nod as they passed.

He watched them from the corner of his eyes, but aside from the hangover, Spencer didn't seem any different than normal. It was just as he'd suspected, the psychic had been far too drunk to remember a thing about the night before. Shaking his head, Lassiter turned his attention back to the computer and tried to keep from thinking about the way the other man had looked beneath him. Harder to ignore was the part of him that wished Spencer _did_ remember.

One chance.

It was all he'd wanted.

He should have known it would make him want more.

**A/N: I realize this isn't my usual fandom, but can I just say: I love Shassie! :)**


End file.
